When You Love
by ForTheLove24
Summary: She tried reasoning with him again, "Ronald, I'm sorry. It's been a stressful week and I just-" The sound of a slap resonated throughout their apartment. Shock was her first reaction, immediately followed by her eyes burning with the sensation of tears coming down her cheeks stinging the left side of her face ensuring that he broke skin.. Progressive Dramione.
1. His Addiction

**Author's Note: Welcome! This is my VERY FIRST EVER fanfiction story for Dramione. It's a work in progress. But let me know what you think and I'll update for the next chapter! Criticism is very VERY much appreciated! Always looking for new ways to improve. WARNING RON-BASHING!**

**Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and all its characters do not belong to me at all. They belong to J.K. Rowling and I do not own any of it. There is no copyright intended and everything is for pure enjoyment. **

**Summary: Post-war/Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron are in a rocky relationship and it seems that there's more to it then just that. On the off chance Hermione tries to confide in therapy. Her situation is laid into unpredictable hands. **

**RATING: M **

"Ugh! Ronald!" it almost came out as a whine.

She looked on, crestfallen, at the ever-growing mess that was their apartment. Her gag reflexes kicked in at the putrid scent that wafted to her nose with the swing of the door. Hermione hadn't been gone longer than a week and Ron succeeded in turning their living quarters into a barn.

Even after two and a half years after the war, The Ministry was still so heavily backed up with inquires of all sorts. When she took up her new career as the Head of Muggle Management Hermione was doused and buried in her work agenda, investigations, and projects. One of which had her gone from said apartment which now looked to be in a devastating state of piling garbage, pizza boxes, and laundry.

Then she spotted it. What Hermione thought at first glance to be just a pile of dirty clothes invading her couch, she realized the red-hair protruding from the other end. As she stepped closer into the apartment, breathing through her mouth, she could taste the intense linger of alcohol in the air.

"Another bad day.." she thought to herself as she picked up the near empty bottle of firewhiskey on the floor next to an unconscious Ronald Weasley. With observant eyes, she really looked at him. The obvious blotchy features to his scrunched up face let on to the fact that he had well started drinking days before, probably as soon as Hermione locked the door the first night she left. By the ruffled clothes of his baggy ripped jeans to the stretched out neckline of his plain white shirt, his appearance screamed unstable.

She bent down on the edge of the couch and smoothed his increasingly long red locks out of his face.

Hermione knew that you never get over the death of a loved one, especially one as close to your heart as a brother, and everyone had there coping mechanisms. Every once in a while Ron would shut himself out to everyone and go on a drinking binge and said that it helped stipple the loss he felt, and more so than often when she was gone. But Hermione knew better. She realized earlier on that he actually rather enjoyed drinking and it became a deep habit. A few times she's tried to have an intervention staged for Ron with Harry, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley's but it wasn't much to go by since George and Molly were in worse states than him. Ron became a cause to her. She hadn't really thought of him as an equal partner in their relationship for a long time. Hermione almost thought of him as her second job. Her pity case, her burden because without her Ron would just be lost.

"Mio..no...min..nee?" Ron's butchering of her nickname told her he was still too hammered to even wish her a proper welcome home.

_Sigh._ "Come on Ronald. Let's get you into bed so I can start cleaning." she said with a little annoyance as she tried to pull him up by his arms, but he dragged her down before she put any leverage to her pull.

"Mione I mishhed choo!" he slurred the words in her ear as he clambered on top of her through the clothes.

"Ronald. Let's just get you to lie on the bed for now and then you'll be much better." she huffed a little amused at his clinging antics.

"NO! I want you! You've been gone soolllongg!" he said as he snaked a hand under her shirt, breathing in her face and making her head cloud with the heavy smell of alcohol.

"Ron, now's not the time for that! Let's just get you into bed and when you feel a little better maybe we'll have a go." she said trying to coerce him into getting off. She wasn't up for his little games.

"Mionnee. Stop squirming 'way! Open up!"

Hermione had enough of his clumsy grouping hands. He may mean lots to her, but she wasn't going to be at the back end of his drunken _needs_. Trying to buck him off of her, she grabbed her wand and with a little too much strength to her flick, he was propelled to the other side of the room.

Gasping at her accidental overuse of magic, she immediately tried to apologize. Her words were caught on her throat as his features turned from hurt to stricken with rage, and then he lunged for her. Before Hermione could utter a spell he knocked her wand out of her hand with his arms as he flung his drunken weight on top of her capturing her arms between his legs, straddling her chest front.

"I HADN'T SEEN YOU IN DAYS AND THIS IS YOUR WELCOME?! YOU LEFT ME!" Ron bellowed. "YOU LEFT ME! JUST LIKE FRED LEFT! But you're back now and all I wanted was you! But you showed so much love when you threw me to the wall!" His eyes hooded over and took on a hard, dark glare. "There is a punishment that needs to be paid."

Fear instilled itself into Hermione's mind and her eyes widened. She hadn't meant to lose control, but the day had gone just a little too hectic with work and Hermione was just looking forward to relaxing in their nice clean apartment together. She didn't understand why all this pent up anger was coming out now. True, he had his reservations about her leaving, but she couldn't possibly imagine they were this bad. It was work related!

She tried reasoning with him again, "Ronald, I'm sorry. It's been a stressful week and I just-"

The sound of a slap resonated throughout their apartment. Shock was her first reaction, immediately followed by her eyes burning with the sensation of tears coming down her cheeks stinging the left side of her face ensuring that he broke skin. The muggle phrase 'Drunken words are sober thoughts' rung bells in her ear, only with a twist, instead of 'words' it was 'actions'.

"That should teach choo notchoo be disobedient!" he said, "Now clean this place shup!" and stalked to their bedroom on unbalanced steps. With the slam of the door, unknowingly, she let out a shaky breath she was holding. Hermione couldn't process what just happened. She couldn't believe that the man she'd been with so long had abused her physically.

_Disobedient? Was she a pet? _

Recovering from her shock, angry tears shook her body. But that's all she could be, angry. Angry at Ron for humiliating her, angry at herself for letting his drinking problem get out of hand. She couldn't see fault in him though. He had been drunk more so than ever before.

_He was unaware of what just happened. He hadn't meant it. _Hermione tried to convince herself of his actions.

Touching a hand to her cheek, she pulled it back and warm, glistening dark blood was present on her fingertips. A sob stole her throat. Then she rose from where Ron had left her and walked to their bathroom to examine the damage done in the mirror. Her shoulders sank as Hermione took in her features. Her once bushy locks had succumbed to gentle waves through the years, but now was a tangled nest from the struggle and her pant suit was wrinkled beyond presentable. The thing that struck her heart chords though was the gash ripping through her porcelain skin on her left cheekbone.

_He must have slapped me with his ring hand. _She thought.

Walking back to the living room to retrieve her wand from when Ron knocked it out of her hand and returning to the mirror. Slowly she started to heal the mess that was her face. In a couple minutes the gash disappeared and there was no trace it ever existed.

Reluctant to go into the bedroom she summoned her casual clothes to change into. Slipping into olive green pants and a split-neck half-sleeved cream blouse, pulling her tangled hair up into a balanced bun, she started on the disaster of dishes in her kitchen.

**A/N: Sooooo... what ya think? Please review and I promise the next chapter will be way longer. XoXo readers!**


	2. Denial

**Author's Note: Okay guys. I know. It's been a week too long. I'm so sorrrryyyy! But here is the second chapter. It's a little rough. I'll probably update it soon with the third chapter, but here it is, in all its glory!**

**PS: I also updated the first chapter and added a bunch of details to the story. **

**Let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All of it but the plot belongs to J.K. Rowling. **

* * *

Falling back onto their now visible couch, Hermione let out a huff of exhaustion. It only took but a few hours to get the entire flat back in order, and all the while she mechanically got the job done. Robotically telling herself where this or that went or how straight she wanted something to appear. With the way she went about the whole scenery doing everything the muggle way, you could have mistaken her for OCD. However, by focusing on the task at hand kept her mind from wandering towards the incident that had occurred earlier.

Now that her chores were finished, Hermione had nothing to distract her mind from lingering on the fact that Ron had become so consumed in his drinking habit that he had struck her. She may have been physically exhausted but her brain wouldn't let her rest. Her mind was going a million miles a minute, playing and replaying all the memories she had from the beginning of when she first noticed his excessive need of alcohol. She tried to pinpoint exactly when she let it cross from 'once in a while' to outright 'addiction'.

"_Oh come on Hermione! Let me just have one more drink!" Ron pleaded_

"_Just one more! You're already rip-roaring drunk as is. Let's have you try to remember tonight ok?" with reluctance, Hermione agreed._

"_It's Christmas Hermione! Cheer up! 'Snot like Ron does this every day. We're celebrating. Everyone knows we could use some celebration." Harry said in a restrained cheerful manner._

_Yes, they all needed some 'celebration', but she could tell by the way Harry's voice hitched ever the slightest at the end of his exclamation that he really meant 'distraction'. The war had taken its toll on the Weasleys' and this would be their first Christmas without Fred. You could feel the forced cheeriness that the Weasley parents, Arthur and Molly, tried to display, and you couldn't drag George from his bedroom even if you tied him down and tried to levitate him out of there. No one wanted to sit in the same room with his tortured eyes, as if he was the one that died that night and not Fred. _

"'_Ets 'ave zeh 'ittle fun no?" Fleur exclaimed, adding herself to the fire of tension in the air. Turning on some music and grabbing Bill by the arm, she dragged him for a dance around the Weasley's cramped living room._

_Hermione couldn't help but stifle a laugh as the two pranced around the room trying to be as fluid as possible, but with all the furniture Bill was just short of toppling over something. Catching on to the lively couple, with a swish of his wand, Arthur had the furniture moved and shrunken to one side of the living room. With a graceful bow towards his wife, he brought her to the makeshift dance floor. Then all at once, almost everyone followed suit. Harry took Ginny, and Percy stood with Penelope Clearwater. _

_A wide smile was plastered on Hermione's face as she took in the joyful ambiance of the scene before her. Giggling when one or two of her loved ones stumbled or stepped on the others toe in good fun._

'_We'll be alright.' She thought to herself._

_With confidence she turned to grab Ron's hand, her smile faltered though and her brow creased with worry as she witnessed a desperate Ron downing the contents of the left-behind drinks before him. It seemed as if his very soul depended on every drop that sloshed into his mouth. But just as quick as he consumed the contents, he replaced his desperation with a lazy smile and relaxed into his usual comfortable self. Shooting his hand out in front of Hermione, he gave her a wink._

"_I do believe I owe my girlfriend a dance."_

_Hesitating, she looked Ron over. 'It's Christmas, Hermione. It's not an everyday thing.' She reminded herself of what Harry had told her just minutes before. Placing her hand in his, she let him lead her to the center of the room, she mentally told herself again. 'Just for Christmas.'_

She couldn't deny it anymore. Hermione knew she'd been ignoring his problem, thinking time would heal his wounds, but it hadn't. She had let it go on and hadn't persuaded him to get help, hadn't tried to stop him, hadn't scolded him, hadn't told anyone, hadn't done anything. Being the first hand witness to his episodes every time she'd come home late from work or every time something significant reminded him of Fred or when she could tell that he just missed the high he gained from being intoxicated. Hermione's heart clenched at the thought of his exceedingly downward spiral and realized that what she was feeling wasn't heartache from his emotional and physical outburst at her, but she actually felt the pang of guilt creep its way into her thoughts.

She had to draw a conclusion. Ron hitting her in any form was unacceptable. He drew blood! But who could Hermione turn to? Surely, not his family or Harry. Everyone knew Ron had an anger issue, but she couldn't let their row be known to the people they both held dear to their hearts. It would crush them all. For him to know that everyone would be more than disappointed in him would hurt his already downhill self-esteem. But it would hurt Hermione as well, knowing that she had been the trigger for his unexpected outburst.

Her train-of-thought just kept digging deeper and deeper into the situation. _Is it my place; is it not my place to seek help? Where do we stand? Maybe I could forgive him? Maybe forget that he slapped me so hard my cheek bled? But what if it happened again? What will should I do? What if it becomes worse? What if he takes it a step up from slapping me and then begins beating me? Or what if he feels the guilt so bad that when.. no if.. I leave him that he tries to hurt someone? Or himself? _Panic started to rise up the back of her neck.

'_Stop it!_' Hermione scolded herself.

She wouldn't be able to find solace in all her questions, regardless if they were necessary or not. Hermione needed to escape her own self and the present looming problem she had to face for a little while. Then physical exhaustion got the best of her as she stopped thinking mid-question when a sudden yawn overcame her body. Stretching out on their light blue suede couch and grabbing the ivory colored throw that Molly Weasley had knitted the both of them for a Christmas present, she covered herself.

As she tried to put a halt to her thoughts she couldn't help but feel relief overwhelm her as she made the connection that maybe this predicament could give her a reason to pass his instable state on to someone a bit more… _professional_.

She quickly shook the thought from her head. '_How could I think that? Pass Ron on as if he was a patient and not her boyfriend. It was her fault that she let it get this far in the first place.'_

'_But isn't he?' _the voice in the back of her head piped up.

'_No! I love Ronald! I've always loved Ronald. I've always had too.' _She shot back, but took in her own last sentence. From the outside in, Ron and she looked like a normal couple, with ups and downs but eventual agreement. Ron had always been her door-stopper, her cushion. Hermione could always rely on him being there for better or for worse, but their 'worse' just kept growing in size. The word _safe _hadn't partnered with Ron in a long time, and by his latest displace of affection, being safe with him was just as much as being safe with a ticking time bomb.

At war with her own thoughts, Hermione pushed and pulled on decisions that needed to be made to benefit not only Ron but her as well. Her indecisiveness racked her brain over and over until finally sleep took her, but not before she made the unconscious decision that Ron needed help, if not from her than someone.

_She was running and bleeding. Running down a long, dim hallway, unsuccessfully blocking out the sound of the indefinite splat of blood hitting the floor as it dripped from her, trying to escape through one of the many doors she passed. Locked. Every single door was locked. Clutching her free hand to the side of her abdomen, putting pressure on the oozing wound, she raised her wand to one of the doors._

"_Alohamora!" she whispered. Nothing. She pointed it to another. Nothing. And again. Still nothing. Realization came to play as she let out a small whimper, the wards wouldn't let her use her magic._

"_Hhhhheeerrrmmmiioooooonneee…" came the sound of the taunting voice of the man hunting her as the little light that gave her vision flickered. Her face paled to a sheet white. Hermione could feel her warmth withdraw into her, along with her magic. She could hear his steps echo in the still of the night. _

"_Come on, love." He cooed into the silence. Hermione tried to pick up her speed at the end of the hallway breaking to the left as she came to the fork in her path. The loss of blood made her mind hazy though and she toppled over her own footsteps. Looking back, she made sure he hadn't come down the long corridor just yet, and pushed herself up off the floor. Panic was crawling up her neck like venomous spider, looking around the narrow hallway she spotted it. A nook in the wall big enough to hide her frame, she ducked inside. _

_The footfalls became louder and her eyes grew to saucers as she watched the figure of the man roam right past her hiding spot. Holding her breath until she was assured his steps echoed off in the distance. She exhaled, closing her eyes in the process, relishing in the small relief. Then she opened them. Her throat tightened as she let out a blood curdling scream. Looming in her only way out of the cramped space she stowed in was a tall dark shadow of a man. His facial features were guarded by the little light in the hallway, but Hermione could make out his eyes. Brilliant blue orbs. Scrutinizing her with just a glare and flashing a sinister smile her way. In one swift movement he had his hands wrapped around her throat._

Hermione sat bolt right. Hands flying to her throat gasping for air. Then she franticly checked her abdomen for any signs of blood. She could feel the tightness balling up in both shoulders. Glancing around the room, she was home on the couch where she had fallen asleep. Hermione let her head fall in her hands as she tried to calm herself. _It was just a nightmare. That's all._ She swallowed the bile that rose in the back of her throat as she relived the vividness in her mind.

Through her heavy breathing she could hear softer ones coming directly from her side. Slowly looking in that direction she realized she wasn't the only one in the room.

"GAHHH!" she jumped, "Ronald! You gave me a fright!"

"Oh.. Sorry." Ron said sheepishly,

"What time is it?! Oh gosh I'm running late-"

"Hermione it's eight in the morning… On a Saturday."

"Oh…alright then." She looked him over. _He must have showered already. _Silence stewed between them. He wouldn't look at her. Ron's eyes darted to every corner of the room, but not at her. His goofy frown and innocent slack in his shoulders were back in tow slouching over a chair turned backwards. Ron seemed almost at ease, other than the bit of anxiety Hermione could pick out of his eyes. _Look at me!_ He settled on his own hands watching as he twiddled his thumb before he started to speak.

"Hermione I… I'm sorry for everything. I didn't know what came over me while I was drunk Hermione. Please forgive me. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just.. I don't know how it happened. I'm so sorry, so sorry."

Processing his pleas, she took her time to answer. Searching his face to make sure he was sober enough to even have this conversation. She tried to word her answer carefully,

"I can't just forgive you Ron. You need to earn that. Do you realize what your actions have done to our relationship?" she paused to search his face of understanding, but all she got was confusion. She threw her hands up in the air and let them fall back down on her lap with a smack.

"It's like you're a child! You're a right foul git when you're drunk! You had no right to strike me Ronald Weasley! No Right! I'm not your toy that you can do as you wish to and I'm not a dog! I know your struggling with your loss Ronald. I know it's difficult, but your solution has its faults! It's been two and half years Ron! There isn't a time-limit on how long you are allowed to grieve, but _grieving_ in the way that you do is clearly unhealthy!" She let her words sink in. As deep as she knew they'd cut, he needed to hear them.

Running his hands threw his hair, he raised his voice a little out of frustration, "It's the only way I know how to grieve Hermione!"

"You can learn a different way!"

"It's the only way that helps me forget." She wouldn't have heard it if Ron wasn't so close to her. He said it in such a sad, helpless whisper. "I really am sorry Hermione. If you'll forgive me then maybe I'll stop."

"It doesn't work like that Ronald." Annoyed that he would try to bribe her for her own forgiveness.

His head shot up and he finally looked at her. "You want me to prove it to you." And it wasn't a question. A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Alright. How do you suppose I do that?" he asked.

"I can't be the one that figures out that answer for you Ron. You know that." Hermione insisted.

"Can't I just say I'm sorry?" he was _whining_! He asked for her to forgive him and when she declares that his words are not enough he whines?

Her patience with him finally gave out. "No you can't! I don't care how you try to fix this," she gestured her hand from her to him. "But you need to figure that out on your own. Until then, I need some time to myself." Throwing off the blanket, she swung her feet off the couch and snatched her wand. "Excuse me while I have a shower!" With that, she stalked to the bathroom, leaving him alone to ponder her words.

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**AN: Like? NO like? I'm dying here. I want to know what all of you think. Oh and special thank you to the only three people to review! Very appreciated! XoXo readers!**


	3. Insight

**Author's NOte: Ok. I know. I am a horrible person. It's been forever. I just didn't think it was good enough. *Sigh* Still read it please?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything Harry Potter related.**

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She found herself sitting on the bench again at the park in the middle of muggle London. It's been three days now. She sat watching as families and joggers passed by. Or watching dogs with their owners playing a game of fetch with a Frisbee. Hermione just observed, concentrating on all her physical senses rather than the ones of the mind. Taking in the warm beams emitting from the bright sun overhead and allowing herself to feel the cool breeze envelope her. It was a beautiful day. It had actually been a beautiful couple days.

_Had I not noticed? _She thought. _Of course not. Not with everything so… off._

Hermione recalled the last few days after she stormed out of Ron and her apartment. She left in such a hurry after their row about Ron trying to plead her into sudden forgiveness. Not knowing where exactly she was going, she let her feet carry her away. Hermione longed for comfort, for something she knew, something that hadn't been tainted by abusive boyfriends or by war. Thus, the park bench in muggle London. Hermione's parents used to take her there when she was little before they knew she had been gifted with magical abilities. It soothed her being there, but gazing at the muggles who seem to be at ease with their selves, she felt envious at how oblivious they were to the war and its' affects. How Hermione craved to be oblivious herself; that she could rewind time and grant herself a childhood again. Innocence was stolen from her and every child who attended Hogwarts and every child in the wizarding community all together. She couldn't help but think about how if the war never happened and if Voldemort had died all those years ago, that Ron wouldn't be the way he is today.

Ron hadn't so much as nodded in her direction the past days. He avoided her at all costs, sleeping on the couch, and leaving before she could get up to get ready for work. They hadn't shared one meal together since she came home from her trip. At first, this reaction of his confused her. Hermione thought he'd still be trying to sway her into letting everything that happened go, but then she remembered saying she did need space. And she was thankful that he understood that request.

Hermione would be lying if she said that she missed being in his company anymore. He was so different. Everyone was so different. Sitting at her secluded bench, away from all the grief and pain that was now the wizarding world, she glanced at her watch. Surprised by the amount of time that flew by she decided it was better late than never to make her walk home.

* * *

Draco ran his fingers through his short platinum blonde hair. Then pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out an annoyed sigh.

"Draco, why is it that you come back?" asked a doe-eyed Luna Lovegood from the other side of the room, "The ministry doesn't require you to take counseling anymore. They haven't since the beginning of this year. It's the end of March. Or do you not know that?"

He turned around and gave her a glare. "I bloody well know that Lovegood. These idiotic sessions were supposed to do… something for me?" he flailed his fingers, agitation rising in his vocals, "But it hasn't done a bloody thing! I don't feel any different from when I first was required to show up here in your God forsaken office! And I plan to be here until I feel.. _enlightened."_ Sarcasm lined his last word. Turning away from her, Draco thought back to the final end of the war.

_Nobody had gone back to Hogwarts for their last year. There wasn't a point after everything the school had been through and after all the experience many unfortunate students had to endure at the battleground. Which brought Draco Malfoy's sentencing at the Wizengamot earlier than he anticipated? On the day of his hearing, just before the jury was to declare his punishment, in walked in the one and only, Harry Potter himself, and right on his heels was a beet red Hermione Granger followed by a disgruntled Ronald Weasley. Before Draco could open his mouth to protest their interruption, without a break in his exterior, Harry Potter had declared he wanted to testify on Draco's behalf. A squeaky voice also piped up from beside the Boy-Who-Lived, as Hermione Granger also said she will be testifying. The two both glanced at their red-headed friend, but he made no motion to say anything. Turning to the Wizengamot, Harry stood with his arms crossed in front of him and then Hermione as well after she shot Ron a glare. Draco's shock had subsided. _

"_What the bloody hell are you insufferable lot playing at?!" he bellowed in their direction, but was ignored and taken from his seat to wait in the back room as the duo had begun to say their peace. After what felt like an eternity to Draco the door to his confinement had opened and he was escorted back to the court room. He looked around, but the trio wasn't there. They had left him to his fate. As Draco tried to mentally prepare himself for the consequences he knew he was about to face, the Wizengamot spoke. _

"_We, the Wizengamot, here by state the sentencing of a Mister Draco Abraxus Malfoy. For being an allegedly known Death Eater and taking the Dark Mark. Guilty. For aiding and bidding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Guilty. And for treason against the wizarding world….. NOT Guilty."_

_Draco was baffled. "_Not guilty?!_ Is this some kind of cruel joke?! Are you going to take it back any second now?!" he seethed, "Fucking Potter! What did- _

_A silencing charm was casted and in an instant Draco became mute._

"_Mister Draco Abraxus Malfoy will be sentenced to pay a fine of 850,000 galleons to be contributed to the efforts to help rebuild damages done to the wizarding world by the war and will be on house arrest for the next eighteen months. Furthermore, after Mr. Malfoy's house arrest has subsided he will be required to attend behavioral classes for an extended six months. That is all."_

"_YOU WANT ME TO SEE A BLOODY _FUCKING_ SHRINK?!" Draco was enraged. He shot from his chair, "TO STAY HIDDEN IN THE CONFINES OF MY GOD FORSAKEN SHIT OF A HOME!?" He started to pound on his chest with the palm of his hands, his face contorting, "IT WAS ME WHO LET THEM INTO THE CASTLE! WHO LET THE DEATH EATERS INTO HOGWARTS!"_

_Aurors from both sides of Draco grasped his arms and hauled him to the front door. He went kicking and yelling. Causing a scene amongst scenes, but all the while the Wizengamot showed no disruption in the façade they played. They just merely stared at him. Draco tried to look at each one in the eye before letting his body go limp, and in a broken voice he spoke, _

"_I deserve so much worse than this." And if Draco had looked up into the faces of the individuals that made the Wizengamot, he would have seen the pity that broke against the seemingly unemotional court room._

Luna watched him for a moment pace back and forth in front of her desk. A small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Sometimes we refuse to accept change. It goes against our better judgment, but regardless if we accept it or not, change is inevitable."

"Why must everything you say sound like a damn riddle!?" Draco stopped pacing the room and snapping out of his reverie, he let himself fall clumsily into one of the many cushioned chairs in Luna's office. "I haven't changed. I still feel this slimy, repulsiveness towards myself. I still feel my punishment was understated.."

"Why do you think that is?" Luna asked in that far-away voice of hers.

"Come off it Lovegood. You ask that every time we have these meetings. If I had never found a way in for the Death Eaters, then it wouldn't have ticked off the fucking spark that went off in their heads that they should start tearing this place up pieces to pieces." Draco stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Sole blame is only a comfort. There is blame in all or if not blame there is a definite hand in the littlest of things."

Draco looked at her through knitted eyebrows, contemplating how someone like her could be certified to be a counselor. _Dreamy-eyed ditz._ He thought. _And yet here I am. _He let out a long sigh. "House arrest, a fine, and counseling? Might as well just have given me a slap on the wrist! I deserved Azkaban! I deserved the Dementor's Kiss! I deserved-

"And yet you're still here. If you do not deserve this life, then why do you choose to live it, Draco?" Luna asked it out of curiosity, but to Draco it sounded accusatory.

"Are you saying I should commit suicide? Are you barmy? They can't have seriously let you become a damned shrink if you suggest that as advice."

"It was merely a question." That small, knowing smile played on her lips again, "but the rather peculiar one is, why have you not tried since?"

Draco blinked twice. He opened and shut his mouth to say something, anything to retort, but words failed him. In truth he hadn't tried to commit, what he felt he truly deserved, in a long while. So he simply gazed at Luna Lovegood. Squinting his eyes and keeping his pointer finger in the air to keep his train of thought up, but it crashed. Draco hauled himself from the chair without a backwards glance and made his way to the door.

_I guess I have more things to mull over then I thought. _He said to himself, but before reaching the door he lifted his hand in the air and motion to Luna with his back still turned away from her.

"I'll see you next week Lovegood." And reached for the knob to exit Luna's office.

* * *

Hermione opened the door to their flat. She expected the place to be dark and filled with the snores of an out cold Ronald Weasley. Yet it wasn't. It was definitely dark inside, but the dark was being feigned off by the light of a dozen candles lit throughout the living room and kitchen. _What in Godric's name._ Hermione thought as she followed the glowing path that the candles made to her dining area. _Wizards don't get blackouts. _Confusion mixed with anxiety coated her insides.

"R..Ron?" she asked as she turned the corner. Her jaw dropped. Blinking rapidly as she took in the scene before her. This was far from what she expected. Dinner was set, rose-petals decorating their two-person dining table, and more candles lighting the entire area. _Did he do this… for me? This isn't like Ron.. He's not a.. romantic._ Hermione thought.

"Surprise." Came a sudden voice from behind her. Grasping her chest and spinning around to face the newcomer.

"Ronald? Wha.. What's this?" Hermione gestured to the set up.

"For us. I've been doing a lot of thinking Hermione. And well… let's sit first and then we'll talk." Ron looked her over, waiting for her comply, "Please?"

She nodded. "Okay."

* * *

**Author's Note: I hate it, but I wanted to give you guys something to read. Or to at least know that I haven't left the story. I've literally been reading and rereading this chapter over and over. It's not making sense to me in the short run, but in the long run it does? Idk. Review? Let me know if this makes sense or not. XoXo Readers!**


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